The Spanish Helmet (25 page)

‘I took it out of the car when I went and paid the hotel and dumped it in the skip bin out the back.’

‘How are we supposed to know where to go?’ Aimee asked, laughing.

‘There aren’t that many roads in New Zealand. I’ve no idea why anyone would need it anyway.’

‘Which road are we
taking
, then?’ Aimee asked as they reached an intersection with one road pointing to Dunedin and another pointing east to the Banks Peninsula.

‘It’s too dark to go and look at Warren’s bullaun bowls out at Taylors Mistake,’ Matt said, referring to yet another of the items on Warren’s list. ‘But I’m not interested anyway.’

Matt was no longer driven by his original reason for coming to New Zealand. Now, he was driven by the need to fulfil his father’s destiny. As if somehow that would make up for not finding him sooner or cancel out his death.

‘I’ve only ever heard about stones with hollows and cup marks, never seen any except for in pictures. It might be interesting,’ Aimee said.

‘I doubt it. Truth be told, after what you told me about the Clan of Truth, I’m feeling a bit stupid for not looking into Warren’s ideas more carefully before I came out here.’

‘You think Warren’s involved with the Clan?’

‘No. I doubt it. But there’s just too much speculation and not enough fact. I was naive to come here based on Warren’s word alone. After reading some of the websites that are going on about all of these places, I get the impression that if we go trotting off to all of them, we’ll get painted with the same brush that I’ve painted most of those authors with.’

‘What brush is that?’ Aimee asked.

‘The fruit-loop brush.
The Clan of Truth brush.
Most of these theories turn from slightly realistic into ridiculous about four hundred words in. Just as you start to get interested in some website or other, the authors decide to throw in that the alignment of rocks vaguely resembles a zodiac or something, or that they have the same measurements as the great pyramid. It’s bloody embarrassing. Even worse, running around looking at these sites of Warren’s without doing some proper research first is far beneath what any decent academic would do.’

Matt felt a bit guilty for slamming Warren’s theories, but he wasn’t directly referring to Warren of course. Rather, he meant the people behind the Clan of Truth, those responsible for creating websites about the supposed Celtic history of New Zealand. He had looked up a few now, and sure enough, as Aimee had said, the same small group of activists were behind most of the pseudo-history websites. Matt wondered how much reach they had. One thing was certain, the way they touted their theories was counter-productive. The racism, the extreme religious views; they took things too far. Matt didn’t want to believe that Warren was deceived by this foolishness or that he was consumed by the hype, but he also had to be realistic. He couldn’t afford to ruin his chance of a good reputation by getting involved in such things. Dwight Pick would love that. Matt refused to give him the satisfaction.

‘So we’ll just head straight to Dunedin then?’ Aimee asked.

‘Not quite. I’d like to stop and have a quick look at the Moeraki Boulders.’

‘Oh yeah, of course, I’d completely forgotten about them. They’re near Dunedin, right?’

‘Practically on the road there,’ Matt answered. He had studied a road atlas while he waited for 2 a.m. to roll around. ‘I think we can be there in about three hours.’

‘Should be about getting light then.
Well, not long after.
Could be romantic.’
Aimee said. Matt loved the way she teased.

They took the road that led south. The sky was clear, with hundreds of stars to be seen in all directions.

  * * *

Hemi paid the hotel cashier and trekked off down the long halls to the rear car park exit. He looked down at his watch. 07:30. Good, he still had time before their usual 8 a.m. departure. He knew Dr. Cameron and Aimee were still in the hotel because the GPS was still in range.

‘Oh, fuck me.’ He said. He was the only person to hear it.

Hemi raced over to his car, threw his bag in the back seat, and opened his laptop. The signal was still there.
Still strong.
Where the hell have you got to?
Hemi studied the image on the screen. According to this, you’re right... he lifted his eyes up... there.
A skip bin.

He jumped out of the car and charged over to the bin, opened it, and confirmed his fear. The stupid bastards had given him the slip. It almost amused him but he was a little too pissed off for that. Ashamed for allowing two amateurs to get one over on him, Hemi grabbed the GPS and returned to his car. It was bloody obvious that they were going to Dunedin, so Hemi would too. He also knew Aimee intended to get help from her mate at the University of Otago. What better place could Hemi find to make camp and await them? He knew he could get to Dunedin in four hours. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too late.

  * * *

Matt manoeuvred the car around the little gravel road and into the broad car park at the Moeraki Boulders tea rooms and souvenir shop. The buildings’ roofs were made to look like rounded boulders.

‘Kitsch.’ he said.

‘I love a bit of kitsch.
Especially on Wednesday.’

They walked between the two buildings and onto the large wooden terracing that surrounded them. A path lead down to the boulders and a steel post in the middle of it invited them to donate two dollars. They obliged willingly, and started off down the short walk to the beach. A couple of minutes later they stood alone among the boulders. Matt imagined that later in the day they would be surrounded by tourists.

‘What do you think then?’ he asked.

Aimee laughed. ‘Geologists will tell you they’re spectacular examples of septarian concretions. Gavin Menzies and his followers will tell you
it’s
Chinese ballast.’

Matt remembered his first conversation with Aimee on the flight to New Zealand. She had mentioned Gavin Menzies then and, unbeknownst to her, he had picked up a copy of his controversial book “1421” while in Auckland. He pulled it out now.

‘Menzies refers to some geologists who took samples from the outer rims of the boulders and analyzed them. They say the material is extremely hard in constitution and consequently very difficult to break.’

‘Yeah, and what else?’

‘The sample was much coarser than on natural concretions. They tested to see whether it was close-grained limestone and found that it isn’t carbonate, which is what’s expected in natural concretions. They believe the Moeraki boulders are man-made.’

‘Rightio.’
Aimee smiled, as she pulled some papers out of her bag. ‘I also came prepared.’

‘Two scientists, Boles and Thyne, say that the Moeraki Boulders are composed of calcite-cemented mud with septarian veins of calcite and rare late-stage quartz and ferrous dolomite.
That, according to my little bit of research, means that they fit in perfectly with the composition of concretions found in various locations.’
She smiled ferociously now, clearly proud of her little coup.

‘Yet Menzies suggests that these Boulders are far larger than any other such boulders found, with some being two metres in height, and more perfectly spherical than others found anywhere else in the world. Why are similar boulders not found along the complete length of coastline if the conditions and minerals are conducive to producing such forms?’

‘That’s a good question,’ Aimee said.

Matt smiled proudly. He was winning.

‘But I’ve got a better answer.’ Aimee laughed as she flipped to another page of her research. ‘There are even bigger, beautifully spherical boulders to be found in the North Island, on the Hokianga Harbour.
The Koutu Boulders.
Look at these pictures.’

Matt took the pictures and looked them over. Aimee was right. The pictured concretions were clearly larger than the Moeraki Boulders and were impressive in every way.

‘Have you been to these?’

‘Nup, I’d never heard of them before.’

‘Why aren’t they better known? I’ve seen plenty of references to the Moeraki Boulders in the tourism brochures, but nothing about these,’ he looked at the page, ‘Koutu Boulders.’

‘They’re out in the wop-wops, on a road from nowhere to nowhere.
A few hours from Auckland.
You can only get to them at low tide, and even then it’s an hour’s walk. You couldn’t drag most tourists there if you paid them.’

‘That explains a lot. So, what’s it to be then? Chinese ballast, or natural wonders?’

‘My vote goes to natural wonders. A game of Geologist’s Petanque,’ Aimee said, smiling.

‘I’m with you.’

They turned and walked up the beach and up the signalled return path to the tea rooms. It was different from the one that brought them down, running through woodland on top of the sand-dunes. Small fan-tailed birds flitted around them and the air smelled of the sea mixed with the freshness of the forest. Satisfied with their brief stop, they jumped in the car and departed for the final hour or so to Dunedin. The view as they came around a corner on the crest of the hill high above the small city was very promising. Matt hoped that the events of the afternoon would be just as promising. But first, they needed to find the nearest hotel and catch up on some sleep.

Saturday, November 13, 1526

The coast continued in a south-west direction. The seascape here was more dramatic than in the north. We stayed further out from the shore in order to avoid any reefs that may be hiding under the choppy seas. The rocky beaches are backed immediately by a range of mountains. Much of the shoreline is steep cliffs. Among the rocks there were many seals to be seen. This made the men restless, as they would desperately like to have stopped to take a few, but the weather and the coastline did not permit it.

I took the decision to steer more directly south again. As we continued over the last few days, we gradually lost sight of the mountains in the distance to the west. I have ordered a change in course back to the south-west and hope that we will see our land again in the next days. 

Monday, November 15, 1526

Disaster! We have been wrecked. Last night a terrible gale blew up. It was one to contend with the forces of those we encountered around the Estrecho de Magallanes. The winds drove us harder to the west and in the darkness we could see the land looming upon us. There were a few rocky outcrops around us, and some cliffs could be made out in front of us. We saw a beach out to the west a bit further, but couldn’t gain enough control to push towards that. I thought we were going to be smashed against the rocks and all be killed. But God has granted us some favour. We have been beached, and beached hard, on a small stretch of sand near to the larger one we saw. Unlike our previous beaching on the atoll, this time we are not going to be able to merely refloat after disposing of some weight. We are stuck fast on the beach. The carpenters and shipwrights have told me that the damage can be repaired, but that we will be here for at least a month or two before we can refloat the ship. In the meantime, they want to try and bring the ship further up the beach, so they can get better access to work on her. We are not sure how we will do this yet.